The story I'm going to tell, is not my story.
It is the story of someone, who is telling a story which is very similar to his own.
The dream I will remember, won't be mine.
It's the dream of someone who remembers a dream, that is very similar to his own.
I think of stories I like to make stories.
To tell them. I know this must sound like the dream of little Iasonas. What will he be when he grows up.
When I wake up, it'll happen again.
It'll start all over...
Monday, November 07, 2011
... a man who got everything he wanted
and then lost it.
Maybe Rosebud was something he couldn't get,
or something he lost.
Anyway, it wouldn't have explained anything...
I don't think any word can explain a man's life.
No, I guess Rosebud is just a...
piece in a jigsaw puzzle...
a missing piece.